


Manipulation is a Bitter Medicine

by sootydreams



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Betrayal, Demon Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), Dream has no friends, Dream hides behind his mask bc he sucks at emotions, Dream likes exploding armor a lil too much, Exiled TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Gen, Jealousy, Logstedshire, Manipulation, Suicide Attempt, Tommy is a brat, Tommy needs a hug, TommyInnit Angst (Video Blogging RPF), Villain Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), first time tagging send help, im not a dream apologist i swear, implied dnf
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:55:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28446483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sootydreams/pseuds/sootydreams
Summary: "I hate you."He chuckled. "Okay Tommy, you don't hate me."When Dream's carefully constructed tower of cards begins to crumble, he latches onto the easiest way to reestablish some sense of control in his life. What he least expects is to find comfort in that arrogant and unruly boy’s presence, and the more he takes the more he loses himself.
Comments: 16
Kudos: 195





	Manipulation is a Bitter Medicine

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first published work on ao3 and I'm also fairly new to writing!! But I love the dream smp lore so much, and I was bursting with theories and headcanons so I just had to get it down. Just a short oneshot with angsty Tommy, manipulative Dream (can he please stop), and maybe a chance for happiness? Enjoy! :D

“Drop your armor in the hole, Tommy.”

It was sweet, like pure honey on his tongue, the way the boy’s eyes burned with hatred. His fingers fidgeting with the leather straps, contemplating if refusal was worth it. Dream would always win in the end though, even if he had to press the tip of his blade up to Tommy’s neck, relishing in the fear that would flash through the boy’s eyes for a moment before dimming in begrudging defeat.

That control, that unwavering obedience from Tommy, made Dream feel whole again.

The crack in his heart began the day they rose against him, the very people he allowed into his lands now refusing to follow his lead, to build their own nation of song and blue coats and declaring independence against his so-called tyranny. It grew as he watched their petty wars from the shadows, picking sides with the roll of a dice to ruin them from the inside out. He had to make them see that they _needed_ him, that their declarations and laws meant nothing because in the end he controlled their every move, like a puppet master hidden behind the curtains.

The crack became a fissure the day his king was dethroned by his own hands. The day his best friend no longer looked upon him with trust and shining admiration, but sided with a man they bloodied their hands for not too long ago. He tried to show he still cared, didn’t he? Turning an innocent prank from an immature boy into a show of power to his enemies and one of love for his friends. But George retreated even further, his crown which used to scream _MINE_ laid dirty in the dust. 

So when he threatened Tommy and the others, watching their faces morph from triumph to fear, was the first time in a long time he didn’t feel like everything was falling apart. He coveted that feeling, protected it like a dying ember, as they scurried around like mice awaiting Judgement Day. And then there it was again, when Tubbo cast out his own best friend, when he blew up Tommy’s possessions right in front of him, when the wretched boy pleaded with him to go see the Christmas tree. Dream fed on that feeling; he got addicted to it like a lion to the thrill of the chase.

“Drop the armor, Tommy, you know the drill.”

The boy muttered under his breath as he released the iron from his slack grip, the sight becoming routine to his morning.

“Your axe too.”

“Dream please can I keep it,” Tommy whined, holding the weapon close to his body. The diamonds took hours yesterday, the boy having to traverse infested caves of mobs and suffocating darkness to get the precious stones. His hair was filthy and his shins were banged up, but he went nonetheless, everyday, to lose them again the next morning. If there was one thing Dream admired about him it would be that ruthless perseverance, even when his country burned from war, when he toiled away in a dingy cave for revolution, when both his brothers stabbed him in the back.

How good would it feel then, to be the one to _break_ him.

“Dream? -the fuck. What are you making me wait for, while you daydream of your little goggles boy. Can I keep the axe or not?” 

Dream blinked, his mask rigid before his slip-up.

“Drop it.”

Tommy’s smirk twitched and he let the weapon fall from his hands, eyes sliding down to stare into the rough hole filled with sticks of dynamite. He no longer flinched when the explosion blew up clouds of dirt into his face.

\---

Tommy was planning a beach party, a little get-together with all his old friends from L’manburg. It was cute, really, the way he said he had his _pep_ back, bouncing around the beach in preparation. He baked a cake, set up the tables and chairs; even Dream spent the better part of his day helping to clear the beach of its rubble.

“Who are you inviting?” he asked, as the sun began setting over the bay and the huge tiki torches they put up cut swatches of light into the approaching darkness. “Definitely Tubbo, Niki, Quackity, me, who else?”

“Tubbo will come, for sure!” Tommy’s eyes shone with a fierce determination. “Yes yes, Ghostbur said he’ll make sure of that.” 

“So… Ghostbur will be sending out the invites?” Dream played along, testing the limits of his insanity. 

“Yea! He’s gonna write letters and put it in everyone’s mailboxes.” He hopped from stone to stone on the rocky beach, arms out flailing for balance.

“Be careful, Tommy! Don’t hurt yourself.”

The boy snorted. 

“I never hurt myself. I’m too good,” he hopped down at the shore’s edge and stared across the water. Back towards the Dream SMP. “I miss him,” after a while, and then quieter, “I wonder if he misses me.”

And that longing in his voice, that desperation, made Dream itch from the inside out, his toes curling up in loath. How, could Tommy possibly still care for those bastards when they haven’t even come to see him the entire week. When he was the only person making the arduous journey across the nether every day, to help him build his pathetic tent or protect him from mobs.

“You know I actually saw Tubbo this morning,” and he shivered, everything in him keeping a snarl out of his voice.

“You did? How was he!”

“He seemed pretty normal to me, we even played a game of chess.”

“Oh.”

Tommy sighed, turning back around and dropping down into a squat upon the beach. He grabbed a stick and drew figure-8s into the sand, listlessly. Dream grinned, eyes dark behind his permanent smile.

“Has anyone come to visit you? I was wondering because I’m only here in the mornings, sorry about that.”

“No. It’s just you, Dream. Just you.”

Silence stretched on in shared discomfort before he approached the boy, placing a hand on his shoulder. Any sort of physical contact from him would’ve thrown Tommy into an instant state of caution before, but now he barely even acknowledged it.

“Don’t worry, Tommy. They’ll come tomorrow. I’ll make sure of it.”

\---

The chair went crashing into the rocks, wood scratching against rock, before breaking into pieces and splinters.

“So why didn’t they come!”

His voice was ragged, eyes wild in search of the next thing to throw.

“Tommy calm down. I don’t know, maybe they’re just late?”

The cake landed with a sad squelch, frosting decorating the sand.

“I mean I was late, but I figured you’d care the least about me being here.”

Night set over lonely waves.

“I thought at least Tubbo would be here, I don’t understand.”

“Exactly you don’t understand!” Tommy tramped up the hill, muttering under his breath. “Can’t you see? No one cares about me anymore. They can’t even come to my party, which is the least they can do after fucking exiling me. I was vice president before but now I’m nothing. They see I no longer have any power so I’m useless to them, not even worth a visit,” his breath hitched. “They’ve all left me Dream. I’m all alone.”

“I’m still here, Tommy.”

The boy hesitated in the doorway of the portal, his face turned away, but his tears could be heard falling from his face to sizzle on the fiery obsidian. 

“But it’s just you, Dream. Just… you.”

The bridge was broken in agonizing silence.

\---

Tommy wasn’t sleeping. And whenever he did he would get horrible nightmares, screaming himself awake in the middle of the night to no one’s care. Or he would be sleepwalking, waking up so far out to sea with a mouth full of water and sand, disoriented and numb. Dream offered to cuff him to his bedside or watch over him while he slept, which only made the boy roll his eyes in disbelief but smile softly nonetheless. 

Dream felt… strange, when Tommy smiled like that, when it didn’t reach his eyes. When he would laugh and taunt but there was a strange emptiness in everything he did, forever glancing across the waters. He knew it too well, he’d seen it before. 

_He misses other people._

So he pretended he couldn’t see Tubbo when he appeared through the portal or peaked from behind a tree. He ripped Ranboo’s letters and sprinkled the pieces into the ocean, to be lost forever in its depths. Seeing the boy panic as Dream approached, hurriedly taking off his armor and dumping it on the ground, to grin in relief at his mercy made Dream’s head buzz in dizzying ecstasy. 

_He’s going to leave me._

So he told him his old friends from L’manburg were happier without him. That the nation had been peaceful and quiet since his exile, and looked nicer without his constant griefing and warring. He stole and crushed _Your Tubbo_ under his boot, feigning innocence the next morning when Tommy ran around the entire island in agony, kicking himself for his carelessness.

_And then I’ll be alone._

So he stayed in Tommy’s tent well into the night, soothing him with a hand on his forehead until his mumblings stopped, while fireflies flickered its beautiful harmony for the stars to hear. He let the boy play with his trident and they flew around together in the rain, chasing and teasing, oblivious to the cold as they pushed higher and higher until the rain turned to snow and the world was quiet, just the two of them alone, surrounded by black sky. He lied and stole and burned until there was nothing left to take, until Tommy called Dream _my only friend_ , and that was true.

So why?

Tommy stood in front of him now, a sword in his hand. Eyes no longer its familiar broken blue, but sharp and harsh as his armor, gleaming in the burning sun. He swivelled the sword in his hand, stance low and already panting, as Dream froze halfway through the portal, one foot on soft grass the other on sizzling magma. 

He frowned, surveying the sight.

“Tommy, when did you get full diamond?”

“Shut up bitch.”

He sighed and fully exited the portal, strolling towards the walls of Logstedshire. He heard the boy splutter from behind him, before a quick blur of blue flew past him to materialize as Tommy, his sword pointed at his chest.

“Fight me, Dream! You fucking lied to me, lied about- about everything. I’m the only person in this entire smp who dares to defy you,” he scoffed. “So I’m the only person you’re really scared of. Fight me, so I can put you six feet under.”

Dream chuckled slowly, his mask shifting with every breath as he watched Tommy still in anticipation. He gripped the blade with his entire palm and wrenched it towards the ground, the tip making an unsettling _screech_ as it skittered across his chest plate. He dropped his hand down to his belt, blood dripping off his fingertips, and pulled out sticks of dynamite. The familiarity of the object made his heart dance in staccato.

“Don’t try and threaten me,” he growled. “Drop everything you have, now!”

“Or what, huh, Dream? I’m done with your stupid mind games.”

Just as expected. He grinned, like a hunter with their sights locked dead onto a beast’s heart. In a split second he had the TNT lit and at their feet, the next Tommy’s collar in his grip, their face inches apart.

“I _will_ kill you.”

Tommy’s eyes widened, and he pearled just as the fuse ran out, Dream right after him. A wave of heat and dirt pounded into his back and he stumbled his landing, tasting blood in his mouth. Light shone onto his right eye and he blinked rapidly, reaching up to touch his mask, indestructible bone now scarred with a crack across its surface. His smile disfigured, broken.

“What the fuck man! Are you insane?” Clearly rattled, Tommy bounced on his toes, dancing between backing down or standing firm. He froze when he saw Dream reach for his axe. The lethal head fell with a _clunk_ onto the cobblestone path, denting it deep, before drawing a jagged line towards him, the sound of metal on stone scratching his ears.

Dream chuckled, grip loose on the handle for now.

“Oh Tommy,” he crooned, tilting his head. “You think you can defy me?”

The axe came bearing down on his neck before he could take his next breath. The boy jolted and brought up his sword just in time, diamond meeting battle-worn netherite with an awful screech. Dream pushed forward and Tommy skidded backward in jumbled steps, panting. They separated for the slightest of moments to meet again, sword whistling next to his ear, axe ripping through plated armor, like a partnered dance. And they knew each other too well, memorizing every move and anticipating the next. One pushing one pulling. One hacking one blocking.

Oh how much had he missed this. Enemies, rivals, on opposing sides of the blade. Familiar, like it should be. Their feet scuffed up grass, cool air drenched in perspiration and the sick smell of blood. He cut deep and he didn’t hold back. Not like the other times. Not like before, when he held even the tiniest inkling of the hope that they could be _friends_.

The boy’s arms were down, weighted from exhaustion. A mistake, and he seized it. Dream kicked him hard in the stomach, knocking him back and through the portal. Tommy’s right arm hit against the obsidian walls, sword falling out of his hand, before the rest of him disappeared through purple particles. And Dream was right after him, axe held high before slamming it into the blood-red rock of the nether where Tommy’s chest should’ve been. But the boy was lucky, having rolled onto his side and in the midst of scrambling to his feet. Dream stayed on one knee, breathing in the sweet, sweet air of fire and ash, as Tommy clambered away holding his bleeding limbs.

“You can’t run forever, Tommy!” he called in that lilting voice he only used when he was on the brink of insanity.

You can’t run anywhere. Because Dream fucking controlled him now, just like everyone else. Because he had his fingers so tightly wrapped around the strings of his fate that they cut into him, his blood staining them red. Tommy can’t possibly challenge him, or he’ll never let him see anyone again, he’ll burn his home to ashes, he’ll murmur sweet words into his ears until the only person they’ll listen to is him.

It was too easy, this time, to lose himself to these desires.

\---

“I’m so cold, Dream.”

It was warmer, somehow. He was on a bridge, set high above molten lava. It burned his eyes when he looked at it. But the way it popped and sizzled, a slow aching warmth. Beautiful, finally understanding Tommy’s fascination.

“Dream.”

Fuck, how much time has passed? Tommy was crying. Not in the loud, obnoxious way he normally would, like a child, but quietly. He was bruised and bleeding, clutching his right arm. It seemed to be taking all his energy to even stand straight on the ledge. 

Dream lowered his ax, which he didn’t even realize he was wielding, and then let it go. Tommy watched it as it fell, landing with a quiet splash into the lava. His face softened as he stared, brilliant orange lighting up his face, with such a deep yearning it scared him. 

“Tommy!” he lowered his voice when the boy jumped. “Come back home. To Logstedshire. Come on.”

“Please Dream,” Tommy brought both his hands up to cover his face. “I don’t understand. One moment you want to kill me the other you’re pretending to care.”

“I wasn’t actually going to kill you,” but his voice sounded flat, like he was reading off a script. Tommy shook his head.

“I can’t do this anymore. I’m so cold, and tired. And I haven’t slept in days,” his voice fell to a whisper. “I just want to go to sleep.”

His words were stuck, his throat felt dry. Never had he ever felt more uncertainty than he did now, teetering on the edge between more lies or the truth. Tommy, who’d challenged his authority from the very beginning but for his friends, his country, and his own worth and pride. Tommy, who really was just a child who did stupid shit because of his messed-up family and the pain he’d experienced at such a young age. Tommy, who’d he hurt and lied to and manipulated to satisfy his own goals.

“I-I’m…”

He looked up to an empty ledge and a pair of shoes tumbling out of his vision.

“TOMMY- NO!”

He launched himself after the boy, hands reaching reaching reaching _please_. Tommy’s eyes were closed as he fell, tiny tears leaking out and drifting through space, to catch themselves on Dream’s mask. They slid to the edge before drying out, but the damp scar remained, an illusion, a retribution.

The fire resistance potion hit the boy’s body before he slammed into the lava, his own shattering across his chest mere seconds later. Then a suffocating warmth enveloped him, and everything was still. 

They broke the surface in unison, gasping for hot air. Dream pulled them through the lava, painfully slow, Tommy limp in his tight embrace. The shore was cold and he shivered, but they made it, didn’t they?

“You’re crying,” came the familiar voice.

Dream blinked, and oh, so that was the wetness on his face. His mask was gone, burned away in the merciless depths. And for once his raw emotions, the tears, the guilt in his eyes, were on display, no longer hidden behind that wretched smile. And he was scared, but Tommy only stared, no judgement nor disgust on his face. He just stared and there were so many things Dream wanted to say, but he could do nothing but hold onto the boy and cry, his heart shattered into so many pieces it was hopeless to mend but to start anew.

**Author's Note:**

> Tysm for reading!! If you leave a comment on what parts you enjoyed or kudos then it would seriously make my day and motivate me to write more :D
> 
> You can find me on twt at @sootydreams. I love discussing theories and lore and just mcyt in general!


End file.
